Part the Second: Enter Mick
A brown and ginger tom had came hurrying in, carrying a grey kitten in his mouth. He was calling to Munkustrap--who came immediately, of course. "Oh dear, another stray."
The three queens leapt to join the crowd and I followed. "--poor mite was crawlin' around the rubbish heap in the alley by the Station," the middle-aged ginger tom was saying. "His mum abandoned 'im after some human picked 'im up."
Now this is a very sad thing, but it's a fact that some mothers abandon their young for a great many reasons--not all of which are justifiable. A pitiful example is when a human suddenly chooses to pet or stroke a kitten--barely a week old sometimes--because "they're so cute" and then mummy ups and kicks them out. The scent of another queen on the kit is liable to result in the same sorry event. The only hope that kitten has is to find a surrogate mother--highly unlikely cos they're too weak to roam--or the human actually has the decency to adopt the orphan--but "sorry dear, your brother's allergic" normally steps in. The Jellicles opened this up somewhat by being good neighbours and taking in any kit they can find.
The pitiful specimen was more than a month old, but looked a lot less due to malnutrition. He had been christened Liddle Mick by the cat who found him--namely Skimbleshanks the Railway Cat. Liddle Mick's fate was currently being thrashed out by Munkustrap and the queens and I listened to them with one ear while I stared at the kitten. The Gumby Cat normally took care of such matters but she was away in Devonshire with her humans for a vacation. So-an-so's human couldn't take in another cat. Perhaps the old lady on Willow Lane might take him? "Don't want no humans," the kitten was muttering, having somehow associated humans with his expulsion from a comfy nest and mum's milk—and he wasn't that wrong either.
"There, now, it's for your own good," I heard myself say.
I also felt myself approach and before I knew it, I was giving him a wash. Blasted maternal instincts! You miss out on reproduction and you'd always try to catch the last boat. I think I've been wearing this shape for far too long . . . "Oh, Katrinn can take him!" Jemima said excitedly, announcing my doom to the world at large.
She had also unwittingly broken down any barrier between myself and the other cats--sometimes I'm so clever I don't even know it until I kick myself in the head. "Well . . ." Munkustrap looked doubtful, but feminine pressure was taking its toil as every female seemed to be on my side. "We'll give over the final decision to Old Deuteronomy when he comes."
Thank goodness for their noble leader, he's delayed it for a bit. "Oh, I can't stay long," I began but Bomb and Jelly all but squashed my protests, saying that everyone would help and that Scotland could wait another month or so.
I asked them later if they were short of surrogate mothers and to no one's surprise, Jelly confessed that they were up to their ears with kits and had a great dearth of human takers. The kitten meowed and I licked him again--already a slave to this grey ball of fur. I could see it in their eyes as they watched me--their elder would probably sign the contract and seal my fate. And there was no way I could back out without looking like an absolute--not translating this for fear of children about. And it was done that night when Old Deuteronomy--more dignified and fatherly than all the rumours--came and looked me over. "Well Katrinn, it seems that the kitten chose you--can't question fate, can we?" he said in his kindly way.
"But I can't feed him--"
"We have that sorted out," Jelly assured me. "You just 'ave to be his minder and see that he's all safe and sound."
Ah, so I was a babysitter. The Catpower shortage must be getting real bad if they actually let me in. "I'm sure after two months the kitten will be big enough to be without a surrogate," Old Deuteronomy said confidently. I also heard the "After that you wouldn't be so inclined to leave him all alone, now would you?" that remained unsaid.
Oh, I won't tell you how wrong he was, but I will say he got it right concerning tough choices. Especially when you have a purring Mick sitting on your tail. "Bless the powers. I knew it would work out alright," Skimble said tenderly and this was accompanied by sentimental nuzzling all around.
Even Tugger was looking at me in a different way--I think I just graduated from queen into matron within the space of half a day. I told them that I was living in the attic of an old Victorian house and didn't like to impose on them. This caught them by surprise because they were getting carried away by this whole surrogate mum issue. I could see suspicion bloom anew and said that Mick could bunk with the Jellicles until he was old enough to choose his own home. I could come every day and "mother" him. They didn't really like it, but I put my paw down. The kitten had fallen asleep at my feet in the whole time it took to get to that point. The minute I moved, however, he was up and looking about warily again. "Look who's woke up," I said to him and picked him up by the scruff.
He didn't resist as I took him to one side to clear a space for tonight's revels. Mistoffelees took center stage and produced a large hat. The standard pass-it-around-and-see-it's-a-normal-hat routine was used and then he set it on his head with a flourish. A moment later, the hat seemed to have fallen to his shoulders. Then it engulfed his torso . . . within seconds all that remained was the top hat, sitting forlornly on the ground. Then there was this "Poof!" and a great light-show that died away to show the magician himself in a mid-air leap. "Bravo! Bravo!" Even I joined in the thunderous applause and whispered to the grey kitten beside me, "Mick, what do you think?"
"That was interesting," he said and clamed up.
Talkative little mite, wasn't he? And then the Jellicles started singing and dancing. I can safely say that in all my years I have never seen anything quite like it. They sang of how being a cat had everything else beat; they sang about food. They danced like there was no tomorrow. Tugger sang about himself and did things that young kits shouldn't be exposed to--the shameless exhibitionist--while the girls got all hot and bothered and the guys muttered amongst themselves. Bomb and Demi got up to sing about Macavity--notorious fella he might be, but you don't often see queens doing a sultry duet for just any cat. They did "Grizabella" too and Jemima was asked to sing "Memory". That girl's got the voice of an earthbound angel and the purity of intent to match. I got a bit teary-eyed myself, I must confess.
Liddle Mick watched the proceedings without a word but I caught him looking away during "Memory". It must have hurt, being rejected by your own mum. Bother! What did I know about kitten-care? "You hungry?"
"Yeah." He looked more alert now at the prospect of food.
"Well we'll go out for supper--just ask your new guardians for permission cos I don't think they trust me that far."
It was easier than expected. Everyone got a bit mortified when they realised that they had forgotten about the number one kitten rule--they're always hungry--and offered to bring us to any of the shops that left scraps out for cats. "The chip shop's closest," I noted, "and you needn't bother with an army."
"No, it's late and some of us need to return home," Munkustrap insisted. "Alonzo and Quaxo are also going by that street."
"So am I," Tugger cut in. "Wot you say, Mick? Fancy a jaunt with us?"
For a moment, Mick actually seemed close to smiling and he agreed readily. You have to say this about the Tugger, it's hard not to like the arrogant bugger. I also suspect he's taken a shine to the newest kit to come in from the cold. "Oh yeah, with a group of big strong men around, nothing could happen to us," I said, rolling my eyes. Does anyone else think that they don't trust me or I am just paranoid?
Any one wandering by that side street leading from the Junkyard at eleven o'clock that night would have seen one Abyssinian queen with a grey kitten walk by with three toms trailing behind. I was sure *someone* was watching, but the presence was gone before I could identify it properly. The chip shop faced a not too busy road and humans sat at tables outside, chuffing on cancer sticks and imbibing beer. The owner was a good sort who left out the fish heads and the guts in an old pan at the alley behind his shop. The other cats gathered there were wary at first because there were five of us but I told them that it was just the kitten that needed feeding. One old queen glared at us and said, "Well there's some guts left at the bottom of the pan--yon kit got 'is teeth yet?"
"Yes, but that's not acceptable." I turned to my charge and said, "What'll it be? Slimy guts or warm cod?"
"How are you going to do that?" asked Alonzo. "Run into the kitchen and swipe it? That's not a good thing to teach a kit . . . unless they were Mungo and Teazer's--"
"Ha, ha, very good plan, laddybuck--but no, we'll do it my way. Just stay here and keep it down while I show Mick how to get a free meal."
I learned this trick quiet early on. A clever dog had gone up to the tables and stood on his hind legs and begged for scraps; the humans loved it and he had got a nice full stomach after that. Cats wouldn't beg, but hunger wouldn't wait either so I had played on human sentimentality to get by. Here we go: Pick Mick up and go to the tables, brushing against people as we go. Some cat-loving people look down and sees us, then they say "Lookit that!", "Mum, it's a cat and her kitten!" and "Oh the poor thing looks so skinny!". (And you must remember Mick looked nothing like me . . .)
Sure enough, someone drops a nice filet in front of us and I show Mick the white flesh under all that batter. This encouraged the humans to say things about how motherhood was universal and send another piece my way. To be polite, I ate it and finished up what Mick couldn't. He certainly was a bit heavier as I carried him back to the alley. "That was good," he said, licking oil off his whiskers. "Can we do it again?"
"Hmm . . . We have to see if your guardians approve of me." I looked to where the three toms were staring at me in astonishment. "What? I'm sure you used that act before on humans."
I told them that was as basic as glaring at their humans until they give you a share of their roast chicken dinner--only a lot easier for the human to accept. They couldn't find much to complain about after that, so we parted ways. Not surprisingly, I got met halfway back by Tantomile and Coricopat. Mick was asleep already so we put him a box full of rags with the other kits without humans. The sight of a bunch of furballs with ears cuddled together is one of the most endearing to both cats and cat-loving humans. Except cats don't coo and say silly things in the light-headed euphoria that follows. I headed home that night without an escort, pondering the strange twist of fate that had tangled my thread in the web of the Jellicles.
Interlude: Two Meetings & an Argument
I did meet a dog on my way back. It came up growling and salivating, threatening all sorts of grievous bodily harm. "Look, Jimmy--your name is Jimmy, yes? I've had a long day and we both don't want to get hurt, so just step aside and I'll be on my way."
He looked momentarily disconcerted for a moment, then recovered due to lack of analytical thought processes. "Grrrr! You're lunch, fast-mouth!"
"It's one o'clock in the morning, Jimmy, and you're getting on my nerves."
Baffled at my calm expression, the dog actually sat back to think. The thoughts had to queue up and nearly a minute was gone before he looked up and said, "How'd ya know my name?"
I sighed. "I can read your peanut-sized mind, Jimmy. Remember what happened to Boss Blackjaw? Think carefully, Jimmy . . . I know you can do it."
"Blackjaw? Why he's nuthin' now! Less than spit after 'e got dunnover by a cat--" Everything must have clicked in place at that moment because he stopped and looked puzzled.
"Jimmy--"
"Cor, you mean you're that cat?"
By an amazing coincidence, I had run into the thickest dog in town. I didn't want to hurt him because it would be like punishing someone who couldn't see for bumping into you. I waited, then yawned. Finally, a tiny spark of fear crept into Jimmy's eyes. "'Ere, I meant no 'arm . . . I didn't know . . ."
"Yes, Jimmy, I understand. Now, since you were a good boy, I won't hurt you as long as you don't harass any cat for the rest of the month."
"But I can't do that! I'd branded a coward!"
"Look at it this way: Boss Blackjaw was going for a queen and her three kits with four of his brutes a month ago--now he's less than mud. I told him I would pull his guts out through his nose if he dared to even bark at a cat again. Have I made myself clear, Jimmy?"
"Clear, yuh!" His head might have fallen off for the nodding. "But now I got no place to go cos Big Dave dun't let us stay if we dun't chase cats."
I was praying for a lot of patience and finally shrugged. "You can go to that old run-down house in Dunnearn Lane. It's got an old garage that's warm enough."
"Thanks, Boss." Jimmy did something that looked like the dog's version of a salute to their leader and ambled away.
Uh-oh. I think I just dug an even deeper hole . . . "That was a clever trick," said a gravelly voice from the alley behind me.
My heart sank to my stomach as I turned to face an impressive grey and black tabby. While Munkustrap had been a large cat, he wasn't as broad in the shoulders and chest as this one. Nor was he as hairy. "I read the name off his tag," I said, trying to cover it up.
"He's a stray. So you're the one who attacked Blackjaw--I've been hearing about you all month."
"And you must be the Great Rumpus Cat I've heard about since I got here," I countered.
"No games, cat. I've been trying to find you--"
"It was my business, cat--" I flared at him.
"No need to get your fur up. I know the facts and wanted to give you a medal--the mettyforical type," he said easily.
"Why, thank you? Now I wasn't kidding about the long day--"
"But you're trying to weasel out of my investigations. It ain't nothing to be ashamed about--being a magic cat and all that."
I nearly wanted to kiss him in relief. They had their own explanations all ready in their heads--I just had to play along. "It's still not your affair, Mr Rumpus Cat. Now I must go." I swept off as regally as I could.
To my irritation, he followed me. He didn't hurry, he didn't even say anything, he just paced along a few feet behind. I retreated to the old attic that was my lair and prepared to give him a pawful of claws if he dared to follow. He didn't even go to the second floor. I could hear him sniffing around the ground level and the garden, then he was gone. I went to sleep dreaming of metaphorical medals and grey kittens who were trying to pin them to my tail.
After the tawny queen had left, Munkustrap conferred with the others over the newcomer. "She claims to be foreign, but we have just her word," the grey tabby said.
"We couldn't get anything from her--just surface thoughts," Tantomile and Coricopat chorused.
"Is that good or bad?" asked Jellylorum. "She seemed alright to me."
"It can mean . . ." Coricopat said.
" . . . many things," Tantomile continued. "Either her mind is very strong or she treasures her privacy . . ."
". . . above all things."
After using their powers, the twins tended to speak that way as their work drew them closer. The other cats were used to it. "She could be a magic cat," Misto stated eagerly.
"Possibly, but we mustn't discount the fact that she could be working for Macavity," Munkustrap injected forcefully.
"Peace, Munkustrap." Old Deuteronomy stirred from his position and addressed the cats. "Trust your hearts and not your minds. For such instances, logic does not apply. How do you know a cat if you have not walked in her paws?"
"She was nice enough to take care of Mick," Demeter volunteered.
"Yeah, give her a chance, Munku. If she wanted to kidnap kits, she could have spirited half of them away by now," Bombalurina reasoned.
"So, it's settled then."
The future leader of the Jellicles ended the meeting and the others went back to their humans or their own corners of the yard. "You seemed troubled," said Old Deuteronomy to his protégé who had remained.
"I think my judgement is getting impaired." The tabby looked at his feet, then at the dark Junkyard.
"How so, lad?"
"Katrinn--I want to think the best of her, but then that would also be careless of me . . ." If Munkustrap had hands he would have wrung them. "It's hard to explain--"
"Now, now, we all know how seriously you take your role, but you could lightened up a bit. Oh, I saw that cat too, and you'd have to be un-tomed, blind *and* deaf to be immune to her." Here, the Elder gave a deep bass chuckle. "The other toms were watching her too vigilantly, I think."
"But even the queens like her--and she took the new kitten on so easily . . ."
"And you think she's a tad too perfect?"
"Not perfect but very close to the ideal for a Jellicle--that's why I cannot discount the fact that she had other motives for infiltrating the yard."
"I think dealing with Macavity has made you paranoid," Old Deuteronomy said calmly.
"You think so?"
"Don't look at me like that! Now it's time for this old cat to get home."
"I'll walk you, sir."
"Thanks, laddie, I just needed reminding about how old I am, eh?"
"You haven't reported in ages, 'Raine."
"Remember who you're talking to, 'Balke . . ."
"Being senior doesn't give you the right to go wandering off at any time!"
"There *is* a reason! I'm following a lead--"
"After so long? You should know better by now! 'Raine, I know you've been hunting ghost trails since you got back from--"
"Ghost trails? You think me mad now?"
"Be reasonable--even if you did find the descendants, they wouldn't be able to remember anything."
"Have you no respect for those who were Lost?"
"I have. 'Raine--that was out of line. I know you're fond of that world, but I swear you're going native!"
"How dare you!"
"'Raine, I didn't mean-- 'Raine? 'Raine! Oh (unprintable word), she won't report back in *aeons* after this . . ."
